Black and White
by Nitesh
Summary: This is a story about Johnny C, who never saw true beauty as a child. Just meaningless black and white.


**This is a story I'm pretty sure nobody has done before. Hope ya'll like it... first JTHM fic. Enjoy and review!**

Black and White

Johnny C had loved to draw.

As a child, it seemed to be the only thing he did. Whether it was at home, at school, or elsewhere, he found some way to voice his feelings into art. He did it whenever he could. When he was carted off to school on the bus, he drew. That was his favorite pastime on the bus, obviously. It was easier to ignore the jeers of older kids and even of bratty kindergartners when he was absorbed in drawing, after all.

However, there was a few things strange about his art, even as an art prodigy in his young years.

Johnny never used color. While the other children used finger-paints or a watercolor set, Johnny used a piece of narrow sketching charcoal brought from home, out of eyesight of the adults. A pencil, an eraser, and a black ball-point pen were his best friends.

When one teacher (her name was Ms. Summers, one of the more active adults) finally noticed this and asked why, he shrugged in a kind of half-hearted way.

"I dunno."

And that was that.

However, eventually the watercolors drew his attention. So, during art period on a dreary November day, he collected spare paper, a watercolor box, and some water, and carried them to a lone desk in the corner. After he had sat down, he looked doubtfully down at the box.

All the individual pallets of paint just looked like the pre-mixed form of the interior house paint that he had at home and sometimes used. But... He let out a long breath and rested his hand against his palm as he mixed the water with a shade.

He couldn't knock it out yet.

He gazed out the window, watching leaves drift across the chilly air, until his eyes settled on a raven, that stared right back from his perch on a tree. Bending over his paper, he began to paint, glancing every once in a while up at the bird, who seemed to pose for him.

Twenty minutes later, he was done. Glancing up from examining his art to mentally thank the crow, he realized that it was gone, flapping awkwardly away to a different tree. He shrugged to himself and looked back down.

It was one of his betters, he realized with a slight smile. It was in complete likeness of the absent crow, from the carefully shaded feathers down to the beady, dark eyes.

Painting his initials J.C. clearly in the corner with a flourish, he stood up and gathered the old papers, the cup of water, and what remained of the watercolor set in his arms and delivered them to the sink. Ms. Summers approached his desk and picked up his drawing at the same time he got back.

He saw her eyes drift critically over his painting and Johnny felt his heart plummet. It was several long moments before either of them did anything. Then Ms. Summers sighed, and adjusted her thick glasses into a better position over her nose.

"Well... Johnny, this is... _different_." Her emphasis on _different_ confused him slightly, and he looked down at the picture with her. "It's a bird, is it not?"

"A crow," he said after a pause.

"A _crow_?"

"Yes."

Ms Summers looked at Johnny, a bewildered look plastered on her face.

"What kind of crow? What it one from a dream you had, perhaps?"'

Johnny was now confused and was beginning to get a little cross. "No, I saw it outside."

Ms. Summers glanced out the window to a tree were a crow sat.

"It might have been that one." Johnny moved to take the still-wet painting from her hands. "He was kinda jumping around when I looked for him last."

"Oh." She released the painting from her grip and looked down at the boy at her side. "Well, it's beautiful. The color is off a bit, maybe," she added, not unkindly. Then she shuffled away.

Johnny watched her go, then stared down at the bird in his arms, wondering vaguely what she meant.

He thought that he had done a good job in shading. Maybe he hadn't gotten the tints exactly correct, but it was still in exact likeness of the crow outside, down to the very last line.

He shrugged absently, and listened to Ms. Summers tell one of the other teachers in a hushed tone about Johnny's 'abstract rainbow bird'. Johnny wasn't quite sure why his bird was considered abstract.

It looked pretty realistic to him.

But then again, he couldn't see a rainbow the same way that most other people did, either.

Johnny took the dry rainbowbird and put it in his backpack, taking care not to crumple the edges or smash it. Maybe he would see the rainbow that Ms. Summers talked about, someday. If he was lucky.

To this day, that same painting hangs over Johnny's couch.

He has never seen the rainbow.

But he doesn't believe he never will.

**Well, I really liked writing this. Not quite sure why. It has a sad vibe, but... I dunno. Made me feel good. This was meant to be a one-shot, but I could try to add more chapters if you guys liked it. So review!**


End file.
